Divided We Fall
by Stardustjinn
Summary: Sometimes, cracks can never be mended. Sometimes, cracks are never even seen. One shot. (Deception Arc aftermath)


**_[AN] I'm a bit wary about posting this - it's my first go at Star Wars and I'm pretty sure my interpretation won't match with some other people. I also don't like writing h/c or angst because I don't trust myself to get it right, but Star Wars is just so full of pain and tragedy that there's no helping it. If you're curious, I have a sort of commentary up in my Tumblr (thinkingHeron, tagged as #fics by me). If you're curious but lazy, just say so in the review and I'll send back a reply. If you're not curious then, well, please drop in a review either way because they make me feel better about my entire existence._**

 _"United we stand, divided we fall."_

* * *

The corridor to the knight's quarters was dark and empty, which was not all that unusual considering it was well past midnight. There should have been a little more artificial lights, but that barely registered as important to Obi-Wan as he stumbled wearily through, eyes only for the door with his name at the right. He had been on a solo mission off-planet. It was a diplomatic one, and was not supposed to take more than a couple days. However, unforeseen circumstances had caused it to draw out far longer than he had expected.

In the end, though, it had gone reasonably well. Obi-Wan had been able to tie up all loose ends to his, — and the Council's, — satisfaction, and that was all that mattered. He could have wrapped things up faster, leave the pettier aspects of the planet's leaders to sort it out themselves, but he liked being thorough. He had given a brief report for Master Windu on the way back, and now he wanted nothing more than to crash in his bed until morning. Given how tired he was, with any luck he might be able to sleep through the night without haunting memories disguised as nightmares.

Reaching his Temple quarters, he palmed the door opened and stepped in.

The Force hit him with enormous waves of negative energy, dark and pained. There were grief, loneliness, feelings of abandonment and loss spiked with fear and anger. All trace of tiredness fled Obi-Wan as he snapped his head towards the door to the spare room of his quarters.

 _Anakin..._

His first, immediate reaction was annoyance. Because a nine-year old padawan _should_ know better than to project his emotions so strongly like that. They had talked about this, countless times. Really, wasn't two and a half months more than enough time to get over simple homesickness?

Then came the shame. Because this was a _nine-year old boy_ who had never even heard of the Force until two and a half months ago. This was a _child_ who had been ripped from everything he had known and dropped on an unfamiliar planet, all alone, surrounded by unfamiliar people. And Obi-Wan himself had...

There had been incidents like this before, especially during the first two weeks. Each time, Obi-Wan had tried to comfort Anakin as best he could, then lecture him about letting go of the past, as hollow as the words felt with his own sense of loss still too raw. He suspected that Anakin could pick up on it. The boy was too perceptive, and understood grief and pain from loss better than anyone his age had any right to be. It was probably at least part of why the lessons never really stuck. However, eventually the incidents grew far and few between, before disappearing altogether. Obi-Wan had assumed that Anakin had learned the lesson, — he _was_ a quick learner most of the time, — and had adjusted well into Temple life.

Clearly, he was wrong.

The tides were receding, scrambling back to the source as if in response to that initial annoyed reaction. Obi-Wan bowed his head, fighting back a sudden guilt. He had been away for too long, too focused on his mission, that he had all but _forgotten_ about his new responsibility waiting back at the Temple. Hell, he clearly hadn't been spending nearly enough time with Anakin if the boy had already learned to shield from his own master and Obi-Wan hadn't even noticed.

He closed his eyes, vowing to do better. He _had_ to from now on, if the two of them were to overcome this. They would need each other to make it through.

Obi-Wan dragged in a deep breath to compose himself before reaching up to open the door. Some part of him was fully aware that it was too late, — he could practically hear the shields slamming back up in his padawan's end.

The room was cold. He hadn't even had the heat regulator on.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan called to the tiny figure huddled in a dark corner, obscured by blankets and the shadows. The Force went deadly quiet.

Anakin didn't move.

He was not asleep, Obi-Wan could tell. The boy was holding himself too tightly, his breaths uneven with suppressed hiccups. Despite his best efforts, his pain and distress was still leaking through the shields, too great to contain in such a small body.

Obi-Wan sat down beside him. "Oh, padawan, I'm so sorry, I..."

He didn't know what to say. Words that had served him so well in the mission utterly failed. Two and a half months and he was still unsure how to comfort small children, let alone one like Anakin.

Instead of trying to talk, Obi-Wan slowly wrapped an arm around Anakin's shoulders and drew him close, patting his back, grimacing at how cold he was. Anakin remained a tightly wound ball, but his breaths quickened into shuddering gasps. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and saw the crack that had formed between them. He tightened his hold on the balled form, desperate to mend that gap.

 _I should have known. I haven't been paying enough attention to you._

It was ironic, perhaps, that in mourning for his deceased master, Obi-Wan had in fact been _failing_ at the promise he gave the man.

Thankfully, the ball soon relaxed, extending a pair of tiny hands to clutch on to his tunics as if they would never let go. Obi-Wan kept his hold, trying to share his warmth, trying to send reassurances and wordless apology through their still too fragile bond.

He wasn't sure how much of that was filtering through, but at least some of it seemed to have.

"T's alright," Anakin said, voice muffled and still shaky. "Duty comes first, I know."

Something about those words, the way they were spoken, was alarming. Those were not the words of a nine-year old.

 _Never,_ Obi-Wan thought, tightening his grip. _Never before you, I promise._

It was not the Jedi way, he knew, therefore he would never be able to express it out loud. Especially not when these concepts of the Code were still too foreign for Anakin and he was already having trouble letting go. But Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin could feel it the same way he felt everything else so strongly, and that that might be enough for now.

After a long while, Anakin's shoulders stopped their sporadic shudders, but now he was trembling.

 _Cold,_ Obi-Wan realized. The room must have been freezing for someone who grew up in a desert planet. The heat regulator for this spare room was less efficient compared to the one in the main room. It would take too long to try to start the heat now. Another oversight that he resolved to correct as soon as possible.

"Let's go to my room," Obi-Wan said. He took Anakin's hand, gently smiling as the tiny ball uncurled himself from the floor, and stood up. "Dawn is breaking, and it will be warmer outside."

The door opened as they approached it, letting in the soft red light of early dawn shining through the windows outside, warm with the promise of a new day. Obi-Wan moved further towards the door. He expected Anakin to follow, clinging to his hand tightly, never letting go. That was how it should have happened... how it _had_ happened.

But the small hand was gone.

Surprised, Obi-Wan turned around, and suddenly they were no longer in his quarters at the Temple anymore; and he was not the 25-year-old, freshly minted Jedi Knight still raw with grief anymore; and the child whose hand had slipped away from his so easily was no longer a child anymore.

Instead, they were in a disturbingly familiar place full of lava and death, spitting up ashes and crackles of flames. And Anakin was all grown up with even more pain and darkness coloring his Force signature. And Obi-Wan could somehow still feel the warm light of the coming dawn on his back, while there was a giant pitch black abyss looming behind Anakin. And Anakin was _staring_ at it, his body half-turned away from Obi-Wan, either unaware or unconcerned as the crackling ashes singe his hair and burn holes in his tunic.

And there it was: the crack, now visible on the ground between them, no longer just a crack, but a rift.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached out for Anakin's hand. He could still reach him, still save him. He could still fix this—

The ground between them burst apart.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yelled as he stumbled backwards at the shaking ground, trying to keep his balance as the Force surged wildly around him, screaming in agony.

Anakin looked back, and Obi-Wan's heart almost stopped. This was the exact same man Obi-Wan had fought, laughed and cried with for so long, and yet he didn't recognize him at all. His eyes were dull, resigned with none of the determined spark they always held. His face was shadowed even with all the flames and fire surrounding him, swallowing him up. His presence, which had always been the brightest star in the galaxy, was now covered in cold, black spots, mutilated beyond recognition even as it continued to rapidly burn up into a supernova, struggling to keep its flickering light alive in the maelstrom of darkness.

The abyss continued to inch closer and closer, threatening to devour everything in its path until it reached its target, — a target that showed no intention of saving himself. Already there were black tendrils wrapped around him, pulling him towards the abyss. The flames continued to lick and spit at Anakin, burning away and leaving chunks of gaping black holes wherever they touched.

And between them, a chasm now, growing only deeper and wider with each second.

"Jump, Anakin!" Obi-Wan called out, spreading his arms. "You have to trust me!"

The words felt sour as soon as they left his mouth. _Trust?_ a treacherous voice spoke in his mind. _After what you did?_

Anakin shook his head. His posture was all wrong.

 _I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I have to do this._

 _No..._

Obi-Wan made to move forward, ready to cross the chasm himself if he had to. But Anakin raised his hand, and the force that pushed Obi-Wan back came from more than just his former apprentice.

 _No!_

"Obi-Wan," he spoke, and his voice was low, almost — monotonic. _A warning._ "Don't follow me."

And Anakin turned and walked straight into the yawning abyss behind; the brightest star in the galaxy collapsing into a black, black hole, cold and unfeeling.

"ANAKIN!"

With a jerk, Obi-Wan woke up to a familiar grey ceiling, catching his breath.

It was just a dream.

He took deep breaths to calm himself and rubbed his face tiredly, wincing at the distinct lack of hair. It had been a while since he'd had such a vivid dream. Having been unable to meditate properly during his stint as Rako Hardeen, it was unsurprising to find his psyche so unbalanced and troubled.

Or perhaps they were justified worries, just rushing back all at once now that he was back at the Temple and could _afford_ to start feeling.

He had not allowed himself to think about it — too much was at stake, and once he took that blasted shot, fell off that roof, took the vital suppressors, there was no turning back. Obi-Wan knew that the deception would hurt Anakin. It was what they were counting on in the first place. Master Yoda had left it on Obi-Wan's decision whether to let Anakin in on the loop or not, and Obi-Wan had chosen what seemed like the logical choice, what would have ensured their success. Because Anakin was good at a lot of things; acting was not one of them. Obi-Wan had expected it would all be worth it in the end. That Anakin would be able to overcome this on his own, and once they had saved the Chancellor, he would understand the necessity.

Perhaps he had overestimated his former apprentice, or maybe he had _underestimated_ the sheer amount of pain that would be involved.

Obi-Wan shook his head with a sigh, — ten years and sometimes they _still_ didn't know each other.

The commlink chimed with a message from the Council, signaling that it was really time to get up. Pushing away the lingering images of his dream — the fire, the darkness, the _chasm,_ — he stood up and prepared to face the day.

* * *

He found them bantering in the hallway, as always. Ahsoka's arms flailed a little as she argued her case, while Anakin's hand hovered by her back in a protective gesture. Obi-Wan was able to catch the tail end of the conversation as he neared closer.

"...three power converters," Anakin was saying. "And no asking for help from Madame Jocasta this time, Snips. I'll make sure of that."

"Deal," Ahsoka replied eagerly. "But if I win, Fives was talking about this new menu at 79's that I've been dying to try out. They just acquired a stock of live Volaska livers but they only serve them in early mornings."

Anakin blew out a sigh. "I do hope he hasn't been taking you there behind my back. You're not legally old enough yet."

"Technically, it's the drinking that's the problem. It's why we'd have to go early. Fives said you needed to be there by, oh I think about 0700?" She flashed a wide smile.

"Fine, 79's it is. But that won't be happening."

"We'll see."

"You want a head start?"

"Your mistake," Ahsoka laughed before taking off running immediately.

Anakin waited until she disappeared around a corner before looking back. He jumped a little at seeing Obi-Wan.

"Ah! Obi-Wan! I... I didn't see you there."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Good morning, Anakin. What was that about?" he asked, despite himself.

Anakin shrugged. "Just a little bet Ahsoka and I are having. Nothing serious."

The warm, fuzzy fondness that had been exuding in Ahsoka's presence was already being replaced by guarded wariness from expecting reproach. Obi-Wan stifled a sigh himself. "If you say so."

He studied his former apprentice carefully. Anakin looked, well, he looked _worlds_ better than before, particularly that time back at Orondia, where everything had flown rapidly out of control and their encounter could have gone so horribly wrong so easily. However, he didn't look as well as he should have. There was that look that Obi-Wan had learned to recognize in his padawan, — the look of someone who wasn't getting enough food or sleep, and was mostly running by his own sheer stubbornness not to fall. Obi-Wan had caught a glimpse of it in Naboo, but he had been distracted, and their interactions had been minimal since then. He would have to talk to Ahsoka or Padme, or Rex, even. Given the circumstances, any attempt on Obi-Wan's part would only result in a backlash.

"Are you alright?" Anakin asked, pulling Obi-Wan out of his thoughts and back to the present.

Of course _he_ had to be the one to ask.

"Of course I am," he replied dryly.

"Well, I had to ask," Anakin muttered.

"Aside from being a little cold on the head," Obi-Wan said. "I am fine, Anakin."

It was a half-hearted attempt at joke, and a half-hearted attempt at smile. Both fell flat. There was no amusement in Anakin's voice as he retorted.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure it'd still be warmer than being a pile of ash on a stone slab."

Obi-Wan's own lips thinned at the barb. A part of him — a _big_ part — wanted to take the bait, perhaps use this opportunity to just lay out all their previously unresolved issues and come clean, right here, right now. For a long time, before either of them realized, deception and secrets had become a part of their relationship. Obi-Wan knew that, especially in light of that dream, he hadn't always been exactly approachable. Perhaps he still wasn't.

"Anakin I..." Obi-Wan started, but like in that dream, he was quickly at loss for words. What would he say? That he was sorry? Sorry for what? For doing his duty but it had to be done anyway? For not realizing just how much it would hurt?

 _How couldn't you? You've known him for years._

He couldn't even tell whose thoughts they belonged to.

For the longest, briefest moment, their eyes met, communicating in more words than they ever would out loud. Communicating, without ever knowing for sure if they had read each other correctly, — if they hadn't completely misinterpreted their supposed mutual understanding.

Anakin bowed his head, fists clenched, the Force rolling around him in tumultuous waves, before exhaling sharply.

"It's alright," he sighed, sounding more dismissive now, his expression resigned. "I know... Duty comes first, especially in war time."

Obi-Wan froze. He opened his mouth, but still no words came. The image of the dark room came rushing back in to his mind, superimposing with reality in his vision, before turning into that _other_ place, with lava and death and the unknown shadow of abyss looming over them. The damning crack was _right there_ , — already a rift now, rapidly expanding in depth and width.

And Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to reach out for his now former apprentice's shoulders; draw him close and hold him tight as he did in that dream, as he _should_ have all those years ago; hoping, _pretending_ , that there was still enough time to bridge that crack, to fix what went wrong. That they could somehow undo all the damage inflicted upon each other throughout the years, and become stronger together as one.

But that was a past long gone, and neither of them were so young anymore.

Before Obi-Wan could say or do anything, Anakin nodded curtly. "I'll be seeing you, Master."

Then he turned and strode down the corridor, the end of which suddenly seemed so cold and dark despite all the artificial lights.

While, somehow, Obi-Wan could _still_ feel the phantom light of new dawn on his back, mockingly warm and hopeful.


End file.
